Tragic Hero
by Death's Soulmate
Summary: Discontinued. Wally has spent years fighting in death matches for Mr. Boss. Rescued by the KND, he has to learn how to live on the outside. Meanwhile KND has their owns problems when kids go missing and are replaced with robots and operatives get killed.
1. Prologue

_**Tragic Hero**_

Please Note: Wally, his imprisonment, and Mr. Boss is partially inspired by the movie 'Unleashed' starring Jet Li. The rest of the plot was collaborated by the ideas and suggestion of its authors.

PLEASE NOTE 2: This fic was formerly a three way collaboration between blackmonday, Animation Emir, and I. Unfortunately both authors have decided not to continue and this was on blackmonday's profile. Now it's on mine and I've decided to keep the chapters as the other authors wrote them before our collaboration ended. Please read and I hope you enjoy it.

To Readers: This story is by three authors. Death's Soulmate (me), blackmonday, and Animation Emir. The prologue's by me, chapter 1 will be by blackmonday, and chapter 2 by Animation Emir. And the story will continue in that order. We all hope that you enjoy this story, which we all collaborated to write.

Blackmonday: Gack! I'm so late in putting this up! I kinda got in trouble... hehee... so I'm on probation. My apologies to Death's Soulmate, Animation Emir, and anyone else who's been waiting for this. Enjoy this most awesome work by the lovely Death's Soulmate.

Disclaimer: Codename: Kids Next Door belongs to Tom Warbuton and Cartoon Network. I'm making no profit on this work.

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_Prologue_

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The thumping of a heart.

The deep intake of breath.

Sweat dripping unto a newspapered floor.

A door not too far away opens.

Three figures walk in, one a balding brown haired man in an expensive blue suit.

The balding man smokes his cigar.

"It's time for another match D," the balding man said, "make sure to make Mr. Boss proud."

The blonde boy inside the cage looked up at his master (Mr. Boss) with emotionless blue eyes.

"Come D," one of Mr. Boss's henchmen said and opened the cage.

D walked out his head slightly hunched.

"Follow me," Mr. Boss said and walked out the room leaving the metal cage behind.

D obediently followed Mr. Boss.

D was ten years old and in Mr. Boss's possession since he was four. He was the ultimate fighting machine in the underworld business of both kid and teen death fighting and when it came to 'influencing' people to do business with his boss (meaning beating the crap out of them when they refused). He was docile when inactive but the removal of his collar or the sound of the striking of a special triangle his boss kept in his jacket, made him into a deadly fighter that could only be called off by the instrument being struck a second time, placing his collar back around his neck (which was hard to do when he was fighting) or the clapping of his boss's hand (but in the case of the clapping his collar had to put back on in a minute to keep him docile).

Soon they came to the entrance of an arena.

"D you have a match," Mr. Boss told him, "you verses sixteen year old seven hundred pound juggernaut KILL U," he told his fighter, "you're nothing unless you're fighting," he said sharply, "and even less if you lose," he whispered into D's ear.

D's eyes shrunk to slits.

Mr. Boss grinned. D was a prideful fighter. No matter how much he hated his owner. He'd never lose a match because that was all he knew to measure his worth.

Mr. Boss shoved D into the arena and metal bars automatically slid into place locking D in.

The ten year old looked around to see the familiar arena where he fought, mostly to the death. He had been undefeated for three years now. The small blonde with hair covering his eyes didn't intend for his streak to end now.

His opponent was a roaring seven-foot teenager wearing red medieval armour. The teenager had tufts of bleached blonde hair on his head, a fat yet muscular body, armour, sandals, and raging brown eyes. While D was sweating from recent self-training, his blonde hair looking stringy right now but a thick bowl cut when dry, wore a sleeveless white shirt and blue jeans with no shoes, and emotionless blue eyes.

In the arena seats were filled with adults of varying ages and occupations. No status was immune to illegal fighting. Boos and cheers were made for either side as those with bets urged their choices to rip the other's head off.

Mr. Boss sat at his appointed seat. He took out a golden triangle and waited.

"Tonight in our sixth match is brute against expertise," an announcer spoke, "the young D against the champion fighter KILL U!" he announced, "who will win, who will triumph?" he asked, "find out now in this match to the death!"

There was loud cheering signifying the beginning of the match.

KILL U roared and slammed his fist on the arena's floor. The effect of the blow caused D to fly into the air.

Mr. Boss hit the triangle.

D's eyes widened. A double flip had him back on the ground. His eyes filled with rage.

KILL U chuckled.

"Graceful like a ballerina huh?" KILL U scorned.

There was laughter in the crowd.

"I'll be the last graceful thing you ever see," D snarled softly.

There were gasps from the onlookers. D never spoke in public. Even Mr. Boss was shocked since D almost never spoke at all.

D bent his knees and sprung himself into the air. One hard kick into the neck sent KILL U crashing into the floor. Sinking nearly six feet.

An arm flew out and grabbed D. The sound of crushing bones could be heard and D cried out.

Count Spankalot, KILL U's owner, grinned maliciously.

Mr. Boss sweated profusely. He had bet a lot on D's win. So had many of his supporters. Flashes of business losses and increased casualties filled his mind.

D suddenly let out a loud cry. Then he slammed his head into KILL U's fingers.

KILL U cries out and lets D go.

Surprisingly though D held onto KILL U's fingers and climbed down to his arm.

Then he bit into KILL U's main vain and ripped it out.

KILL U's screams rang throughout the arena. Blood gushed everywhere.

D jumped into the whole and started beating KILL U to a pulp. KILL U's sobbing could be heard for miles. So could his screams as he begged for mercy.

D gave him none.

"I forfeit!" Count Spankalot screamed over the crowd.

All the spectators went silent. Mr. Boss and Count Spankalot were among the few absolutely cold-blooded businessmen in this field that never forfeited a match. Fighters under them had died brutally in death matches as a result. Now Count Spankalot was crying forfeit like D was beating him to death instead of KILL U.

"Does Mr. Boss comply?" the announcer asked.

"No," Mr. Boss refused.

Count Spankalot glared at him.

"But if I…" Mr. Boss started.

"Deal," Count Spankalot agreed.

This was even more shocking. Count Spankalot never dealed.

"I accept," Mr. Boss said, "call off the match," he said then hit the triangle.

D's beatings stopped. KILL U had long lost consciousness.

Count Spankalot used his telekinesis to lift the beaten bleeding KILL U.

Most the crowd gasped at KILL U's current condition. With exceptions that included Mr. Boss.

"Winner, D," the announcer declared.

Cheers were heard from those who supported and bet on D.

Count Spankalot silently left with his critically injured fighter.

After several minutes Mr. Boss walked down to collect D.

"You won," Mr. Boss said.

D didn't answer, his eyes glued in the direction where Count Spankalot had left with his own fighter KILL U.

Mr. Boss noticed.

"Caring owners get dead fighters," Mr. Boss whispered in D's ear.

D who never saw otherwise mentally agreed.

-----

It was 2pm at Sector V where Nigel Uno, operative Numbuh 1 of Kids Next Door, was giving his team their newest mission.

"It will be hard," Nigel admitted, "but we have to free these kids being used as fighters," he said seriously, "most never even see beyond adolescence," he continued, "and by teen years," he said sadly, "they're beyond allowance of retrieval," he concluded.

"Numbuh 5 thinks that crazy," Abigail spoke, "the teens won't help them," she pointed out, "the organizers of these fights have Father on their payroll!" she cried incredulously.

"We still have to follow orders," Hoagie spoke, "no matter what we think personally," he continued, "teens are our enemies," he reminded them.

"Here there," Tony Frederick operative Numbuh 4 agreed, "every last one of them should be blown sky high," he said his green eyes blazing.

Kuki silently listened. She always felt safe around her fellow operatives. Except when the usually kindhearted weapon maker expert Numbuh 4 went on a tirade about adults and teenagers. His words passed suggestion of bloodbaths. He promoted it. Any talk about teens and adults usually transformed the kind brown haired, green eyed, freckle faced ten-year old into someone verbally vicious. This scared the kind non-violent Kuki Sanban.

"Sorry Kuki," Numbuh 4 apologized upon seeing her looking so upset.

Kuki smiled and nodded.

"So when do we go in?" Numbuh 5 asked.

"In three days," Numbuh 1 told her, "so everyone rest up, train, and prepare."

His fellow agents nodded.

"What about that fighter D?" Kuki asked, "you said he was one of the riskiest to free," she added.

"Yes but we have to," Numbuh 1 said, "he's Mr. Boss's main fighter," he continued, "and at the rate he uses D," he said, "probably his only truly capable one."

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Thank you for reading this story. Please tell us your thoughts of it in your review. 


	2. Inevitablility of the Fates

**Chapter Author: blackmonday**

**blackmonday: Finally updated! So here's my chapter for Tragic Hero. Once again, written by Death's Soulmate, Animation****Emir, and myself.**

**Please Note: Wally, his imprisonment, and Mr. Boss is partially inspired by the movie 'Unleashed' starring Jet Li. The rest of the plot was collaborated by the ideas and suggestion of its authors.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own anything concerning the Cartoon Network TV show Codename: Kids Next Door. Those rights belong to the Mr. Tim Warburton and Cartoon Network. Neither do we own the movie Unleashed--right belonging to its producers... and stuff.**

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_**Tragic Hero**_

Inevitablility of the Fates

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_Two four-year-old boys ran down the pathway around the playground set in dire fury._

"_You'll never catch me now, Captain Starmazer! For I have the Glowing Monster Orb!"_

"_Never!!! I attack you with the MUCUS GLOB OF DEATH!" The first boy screamed in horror as the latter began to shoot snot rockets at his head._

_The pair finally collapsed in laughter and exhaustion when the first boy finally exclaimed, "Wally, you're my best friend ever. Promise to stay friends?"_

"_Yeah, mate, promise forever."_

_The next morning, Wally was gone._

* * *

Nigel Uno stood at his podium to debrief the final details of their upcoming mission. As always, Numbuh 1 treated all missions with all pride and respect that his father, the Great Numbuh Zero had before him. 

"All right, team. Our main mission is to free the fighter kids within Mr. Boss's training grounds. From the statistics Abby's confidante has given us, Mr. Boss's Center holds not only his fighters, but lends it to types such as Mrs. Thompson and her newly developed Were-puppies.

"Also from these diagrams, we have figured that most of the fighters, supposedly including D, are located on the second building lot. The rest are on the first floor and serve as guards to the area. Mr. Boss has a lot all to himself, his family, and a few guards adjacent to the Fighters' Building. However, the building faces away from the pre-planned exit hole on the East side of the complex. Therefore, we should run into little trouble with the exception of the actual guards standing watch.

"To prevent this, Numbuh Four and Numbuh Three will sneak into Mr. Boss' building disguised as fighter servants and sneak up the main shaft of the vent into Mr. Boss's office. They'll plant one of Numbuh Four's MOUSE (Many Of Us See Explosion) bomb to create a distraction as if someone were attempting to take away Mr. Boss's reputation. As per fighter protocol, the fighters, though capable are the most important after Mr. Boss, there will be a short lockdown. On the other hand, Numbuh Five and I will grab the keys from the guards and let them out the back door and to the exit where Numbuh Two will be waiting with Numbuhs 54 and 85 for transportation to Rendezvous Point 12, Sector XYZ's landing hatch. Understand?"

They all nodded with "Yessuh's."

"Perfect." Numbuh One paused and spoke in a quiet but mischievous voice, "Kids Next Door, Battlestations!"

* * *

Everything so far had gone according to plan. The team arrived at the base on time and unnoticed by the guards. Disguised as ruffians, they were led into the courtyard to mingle with the fighting crowd. Abby and Nigel sneaked off towards the bunk, whilst Tony and Kuki went to Mr. Boss's barracks as replacement guard. Encountering few provocative fights, all five of which were won by the KND, both parties made it safely to their assigned location. 

But the last thing Numbuhs Four and Three expected was a visit to D.

The vents were crowded and stuffy, not to mention full of bugs and rats. Thank the sky the lights were off, otherwise Kuki would've been screaming so loud the center would've gone deaf.

"Numbuh 4, which way was the office again?"

"Wasn't it three lefts and a right at the third vent on the left?"

"I thought it was two lefts, a slight right, and then the eighth vent from the mainstream."

"Wait. The map…. Can't see a thing in here!"

"Here, give it to me."

"Wait, just let me give a try!"

"No, Tony, just let me—WAA!!"

Under reflex, and a slight sensitivity to Kuki, Tony instinctively reached out his hand to save the poor girl from falling through the vents. It seemed that the perky operative had found a hole in the system. Unfortunately, that hold led to a cellar not even Mr. Boss had the guts to go into.

The room was dimly lit, with only a fluorescent bulb hanging from a wire from the ceiling, flickering every once in a while. The walls were made out of steel, though it had appeared that dents had been made quite often. At the front of the room was a steel triple bolted door, having a single slide open viewing window and a food tray slot down below. And on top a military cot at the side of the room was a blonde haired boy in the fetal position against the wall.

Was.

Now, he was growling at the newcomers, waiting to be called for attack. Waiting.

Once Numbuh Three had risen safely to the haven of the vents, both heads peeked inside to view the fighter. This had to be none other than D, the class champion fighter. As if they couldn't tell by the D Tattoo on his ankle or the fact that he was camped in Boss's building at all, even though supposedly he wasn't. D's reputation would deserve some sort of hierarchal recognition, in the form of safety and possessiveness.

But Tony's expression spoke of fear.

"Wally?"

D stumbled slightly at the name, but otherwise paid no attention to it.

"Oh Gods, Wallabee Beatles, is that you?"

D's breathing became more shallow but his eyes became narrower as if he was denying something.

"Oh my God, it is. Wally, I—"

"NO!" D scrambled with a coarse and choked voice. "I am not Wally. I am D—The Fighter."

"But—"

"No!"

Tony's voice leveled to one of hurt and slight disbelief, but managed to convey to Kuki, "Numbuh Three, contain D and take him with the others. Watch him and give him to Nigel and Abby. I can set MOUSE up by myself. I've done this plenty of times."

Kuki looked a little skeptical. What if he was caught? "Are you sure? Don't you need back-up?"

"Nah. Remember, we save all kids. We won't have time to come back for D once I've set the bomb, and the rest of the team is probably getting impatient. I have to go. Just take care of him, will ya?"

Kuki nodded. She saw the fear in his eyes, not from the mission, but from its object. D scared him. Not only that, D knew.

Tony scrambled up the vent towards Mr. Boss's office and split ways from the return party.

* * *

It was inevitable that Sector V had to screw up. They had been too good for too long. It was unavoidable that something had to go wrong. What was not foreseeable was that it had to be now. 

One would say that it was a fluke of nature that Tony had misinterpreted his exit time and set the bomb for a near four minutes. And it was quite unfortunate that Kuki's and D's journeys had taken them approximately 2:03 from a little over half the distance. And it was regrettable that Tony's shoelace had to get stuck in the vent on the way back from setting the MOUSE, and even more so when he couldn't see what he was doing. And with all this, he had forgotten to bring a glow in the dark watch.

And it quite possibly would be that in another universe, it would've taken Tony 3:59 to simply get out alive. But this isn't that reality.

Tony Fredericks was dead.

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**Reviews would certainly make this story a lot better. Especially since my writing's been quite shabby as of late.**

**blackmonday**


	3. Focal Point

**Author: Animation Emir**

**Blackmonday: My sincerest apologies to Animation Emir for not putting this up until now. I've had a pile of projects on me, so I couldn't get to it till now. This is really great. So I hope you'll enjoy it too.**

**AN: Whatever we said last time (XD- Blackmonday)**

**Disclaimer: We don't own KND.**

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_**Tragic Hero**_

_Focal Point_

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Getting D back to #5 and #1 was a lot easier than #3 expected despite the limited escape time. Regardless of his skills, the misguided child couldn't resist getting his arms eventually bound behind his own back since he needed the control collar off to use his maximum strength. The shock from somehow recognizing #4 also helped #3; she needed wonder why the two boys acted that way but decided to press the question later. And it wasn't long until Sector V's youngest met up with the other victims and her teammates outside. "Ah, #3," #1 greeted, "We were wondering what had happened, but I see you and #4's part of the mission met with success."

"Aye aye, captain!" #3 saluted. D just let out an ignored snarl as he awaited his turn to be loaded. The whole thing took much longer than the operatives wanted.

"By da way, where is #4?" #5 asked. The inevitable explosion answered her question and more. Debris fell around operatives and victims alike, thankfully without hitting anyone. #4's bomb must've been stronger than they all realized according to the included shockwaves. Those waves busted windows, short-circuited regular civilian vehicles, and knocked those standing too close by to the site – namely the victims and their rescuers – off their feet. Ironically, the nonexempt D's collar was knocked off upon impact, and he felt the growing rage.

"What happened?" #2 groaned as all recollected themselves.

"Oh, no!" #3 cried, "#4! I think he was still in there!"

"Uh, we got other problems!" #85 pointed out. Authorities hadn't yet arrived on the scene, and the explosion scared off anyone not clued in about the adult/kid conflict. That left room only for the other fighters' echoing screams. D's rampage left the operatives all but dumbstruck at the carnage.

"We must stop him!!" #1 commanded.

"We'll take care of the others!" #54 spoke, pointing to herself and #85, "But you handle D first!" Sector V wasted no time in attracting the rabid one's attention while #54 and #85 set about calming and reassembling the others. #1 received a broken nose, hand, and ankle. #2's pilot's cap was busted up with pieces of goggle lens lodged into both shoulders. #3 had huge scratches across her face. And #5 exhibited large purple lumps on her limbs and bite marks on the left cheek. But the group ignored their injuries in trying to detain D all over again. It soon escalated to crushing #2 and #5's necks between both legs, #1's in one arm, and #3's in the other.

"Col-…lar!" #1 gagged, "Col-…lar!!" #54 and #85 were too busy with the other fighters to lend a helping hand. #3 noticed the collar a mere five inches away and so reached for it. Two narrow successes presented themselves in the form of grabbing the collar and getting it around the boy's neck. His grip faltered though his attitude remained, and all five stood back up once more.

"Finally," #5 puffed, "#5 thought she an' her teammates was goners fer sure."

"Allow us," #85 offered, taking D along as well.

"This one's getting maximum," #54 muttered. The two didn't leave just yet since Sector V still required a ride. Needless to say, their injuries sustained from D made departure slow.

"You all said he only attacked those Mr. Boss commanded him to," #3 argued, "Why'd he go after his own friends?"

"Maybe the shockwaves stimulated his brain," #2 suggested, "I've read about this before. Funny how it didn't affect, say, us as well."

#1 immediately pulled out a communications device, turned it on, and spoke. "#4! #4, can you hear me?!" Only static came. "#4! Come in! Do you read me?!" Still nothing.

"Uh, friends?" #5 announced, holding up a charred piece of #4's shirt. All other Sector V operative's eyes bugged out with #1's cracked shades drooping.

"Oh, criminy," the group leader said.

* * *

By the time the KND vehicle departed, authorities and an irritated Mr. Boss happened on the scene. Fire hoses put out any remaining flames while construction crews set to work repairing and replacing structural damage. "What in the name of uranium waste products happened here?!" Mr. Boss interrogated, passing easily around police tape. 

"The fighters are gone, sir," one ice cream worker replied, "The Kids Next Door…" He was cut off as Mr. Boss' rage took control and grabbed him by the shirt collar, staring down at the pitiful soul.

"What…did…they…do?" the hunchback executive growled, "Answer me!!"

"Um…um…um…" the worker whimpered, "Snuck in…disguised…new fighters…"

Mr. Boss tossed him against a broken section of concrete wall, intimidating others around. "How could this have happened?! What am I paying you scabs for?!"

"Your blood pressure, sir!" an assistant reminded.

"I DON'T CARE!!!" A medic rushed to the tossed worker's aid, ready to collapse from blood loss because of a gaping wound on the back of his head. Mr. Boss calmed a bit thanks to some deep breaths. "Where's Fighter D?"

Rather than a spoken answer, the hunchback was led to said fighter's given room's remnants. Construction workers had already uncovered half of the former floor. "This is all that's left of his cellar," another associate explained, "No trace of him or anyone remains. The fighters, I mean."

"Why the funny look?" Mr. Boss threatened, "Is there something you failed to mention?"

"No, no," a third chimed, "See, the fighters have all been stolen, but the Kids Next Door lost a member. Permanently." The third speaking worker led Mr. Boss to what remained of #4, surrounded by extra tape: charred skull, humerus, and clothing scraps. "Made a miscalculation and paid the ultimate price."

Mr. Boss felt a little better witnessing this but would rather not admit it publicly. "Remind me to fire some of you later." And without another word, he departed the scene.

* * *

The Frederick kin took the news with anguished hearts that evening. Pro-adult forces – amongst them Father, Mr. Boss, and the Delightful Children From Down The Lane – lent insincere monetary support all the while fabricating comfort at Tony's funeral two days later. Aside from neighbors, KND operatives everywhere let it really shine through their salutes and teary-eyed faces toward televised signals through their organization's satellites. 

Fighter D's cell in the Maximum Security Prison couldn't keep him from watching as well despite his ostensibly emotionless expression. Other prisoners felt bored about the spectacle and ready to lose their lunches. He continued staring into the wee hours of late night, during which the funeral had long since ended. "What're you staring at?" a guard questioned, "The funeral's over, bub." D growled again but just turned his back on the hallway, slumped against the door, and stared at the wall. This was going to be a long while.

* * *

Nearly two weeks passed since the previous #4's demise. The remaining Sector V operatives were surely healing but needed practice some restraint from anything too big. Somehow, #5's insistence of taking on guard duty at the prison this one night won through. #3 had long since shared the news about their dead teammate knowing D, and it certainly sparked all four's concern, but only Sector V's oldest felt brave enough to approach Mr. Boss' prize warrior this close. 

#5 grew curious and so peeked through D's cell door yet maintaining her distance. She wasn't too far off in assuming something deep must be on his mind. D retained a static composure save for a flinching right eye due to an internal emotional cyclone. Tony's echoing voice seemed to bring something back: a pretend game; cries over being dragged off by a cruel force; intense training; abuse… Glancing #5's way – the operative in question putting on her own rough façade characteristic of guards – snapped D out of it.

Actually observing his current surroundings for the first time reminded D of another past life moment. He recalled a similar night practically a whole year ago when he felt Mr. Boss' waning influence. D indeed hated his master. But the rescue changed everything; sooner or later, the fighter would dish out some serious payback. Perhaps the answer even lay within his rescuers. Things became interesting all of a sudden.

#5's shift mostly centered upon D, now snoozing upon his cot and talking in his dreams. She needn't fret over soundproof barriers since his lip movements spoke plenty. The quiet girl had studied silent films and so could make out the words 'promise' and 'forever' emanated on D's face. Negativity from the rescue all but gave way to sympathy. But #5 jolted when a portable phone in her pocket drew away her attention. "#5 speakin'."

"Hello, #5," #1 spoke, "How goes the shift?"

"Good as ever, #1," was the answer, "D's fast asleep, #5's all by her bored lonesome…business as usual."

"Wonderful."

"Yeah…" #5 trailed off at continually seeing D, and #1 almost thought something happened to her.

"#5? You still in?"

"Hrm? …Oh…yeah…I'm good."

"You can't fool me. What's the matter?"

"Yeah…um, #1? How long did dey say dis would be? Until further notice?"

"That's correct. Headquarters said D is much too dangerous and that this is only until they can figure out how to best handle him, if you get what I mean."

"Right. And ta think he used ta be friends wit' #4."

"Ironic, I know."

"In fact, D's speakin' in his sleep right now. Somethin' 'bout a lifelong promise. Poor kid."

"Yes, I understand. I best not deter you from guard duty any longer. Just make sure you come back soon. #1 out."

In hanging up, #1 retreated to his treehouse bedroom the same time #5 peered once more towards D. Her sympathy over such dangerous figures usually took a lot longer to be drawn out, and yet something…but #5 dismissed the idea and continued pacing about. "Poor guy," she muttered.

Restless nights took its toll on many since that one day, Sector V no more exempt than the next person. #2 knew he could rely on the nighttime sky for comfort. But up until now, neither he nor #3 bumped into each other. "#2!"

"#3!"

"Whadda you…?" The answer hit the girl just as quickly. "So you like da stars too, huh?"

"Sure thing. Makes me forget all the bad feelings when I can't sleep."

"Me too." So the pair observed it side by side.

A half hour of silence preceded #2 resuming the conversation. "You worried about D same as **I** am?"

"Poor guy," was the response, "All his life, training to fight messy fights and not enjoying something fun, like a swing on the swing set. And poor Tony."

"D probably can't remember real fun. I'm only sorry we gotta contain him like this, but at least it's just temporary. Hope the solution's good."

Then #3 lost it. "Why da prison? Why not something else?! It's not right, #2, I hate it! D didn't ask to be dis way!"

"Slow down, #3. I already said the feeling's mutual. And besides, nobody controls the flow of time."

#3 calmed herself. "I'm sorry. I just wish **I** would've thought up an alternative."

#2 placed a comforting hand on one of his teammate's shoulders. "You and me both, soldier. You and me both." The pair then yawned together. "Guess that did the job; I'm pretty sleepy."

"Well, I'm gonna stay out a bit longer. Good night, #2."

"Likewise." With backs turned, the pair felt an indeterminate expression resulting from this little meeting. The same thought ran through both heads as #2 walked on and #3 stared: I love that smile.

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Animation Emir: Sorry if that was too short.

Blackmonday: Reviews are nice. Try it. It tastes like... I dunno really...


	4. Faces

_**Tragic Hero **_

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Disclaimer: If I owned this I would've moved on to their teen selves by now. Damn they'd probably have grandkids. So no it's not mine.

**Chapter Author: Death's Soulmate. **

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_**Faces **_

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Numbuh 5 climbed in through her bedroom window still talking to Numbuh 1 on her special walkie-talkie.

"Yes Numbuh 1," Numbuh 5 agreed, "of course Numbuh 5's gonna be…"

Numbuh 5 stopped upon seeing an occupant in her bedroom.

"Numbuh 1," Numbuh 5 said shakily.

The other person grinned waiting to hear her waver.

"Abby's gotta get some shuteye," Numbuh 5 said then hung up.

The person occupying her bed frowned.

"Come to spank me?" Numbuh 5 asked Count Spankalot, her cold determined face showing that she would go down fighting.

Count Spankalot immediately a snorted. His face showing that he wasn't even worthy to be spat on his eyes.

"No," Count Spankalot responded and the tall vampire stood to his full height, "I have a message."

"Sector V aint interested in your message," Numbuh 5 said darkly.

"Shut up," Count Spankalot snapped and took a dangerous step forward.

A frightened Numbuh 5 took a frightened step back.

"I have a message Abby," Count Spankalot said calmly, "and you will deliver it," he told her threateningly.

Abby gulped. She had a Splankler (one of the 2x4 weapons, and yes it's in the actual show) in her backpack. But knew better than to actually use it.

The look on Count Spankalot's face told her that he wouldn't just hurt her. He'd kill her.

* * *

Meanwhile at a park a little girl ran through the area panting heavily. She was the only member of her family who suffered from insomnia. So when there was a pattering of feet in her house she was able to hear it despite how soft it was. What she discovered at 1 a.m. in the morning were her brother and sisters being grabbed by a machine that had white gloved arms, a cabinet underneath those arms where her brother and sisters were flung into and wheels that made it move around. 

Horrified she stood there frozen. And that's when one of the human kidnappers saw her.

"Get her!" a teen ordered.

"Run Stephanie!" her older brother by three years Ron Hoppy shouted.

And that's when Stephanie took off.

Now in the park she ran sobbing as she pumped her seven-year old legs as fast she could in her white nightgown.

Just then something zoomed right in front of her.

Stephanie cried out and fell back on her butt.

Whatever knocked her over came back and stood over her.

A girl with light blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, creamy white skin, and barefoot stood in front of her.

Stephanie incoherently whimpered.

The girl standing in front of her looked exactly like her. Right down to the nightgown she had gotten on her seventh birthday.

Suddenly the girl's eyes glowed red.

Stephanie screamed.

* * *

Mr. Boss walked up to the convenience store that hadn't paid him in a week. Extortion was one of the many ways he earned his money. Actually it was the main way he earned his money. Now armed with a new fighter Reggie Monster, he felt ready to collect. 

But he wasn't.

"Hey!" Mr. Boss shouted as he entered the lonely store since it was 9pm, "Mr. Salazar, come out here!"

There were careful footsteps and soon a middle-aged man stepped into view from a backroom.

In his hand was a shotgun.

Mr. Boss laughed.

"Do you really think you and that gun can stop me?" Mr. Boss asked as he laughed.

Suddenly there was running heard outside the door. Soon Mr. Boss could hear a fight and gunshots. He paled.

"Your re-enforcements are through," Mr. Gerald Gonzalez the aging shop owner said hatefully his face etched in complete resentment of the man who bribed and frightened him and his family for years.

Then he fired the shotgun. Mr. Boss's face etched in the fright and horror of someone facing his final hour. Or in his case second.

But then he felt someone push him out of the way. The fighter he'd hired the teen sprint boxer Reggie Monster, had pushed him out of the way. Unfortunately Reggie couldn't escape the shot from the shotgun. The stringy teen flew several feet back and slammed into a section for vegetables.

A shocked Mr. Gonzalez dropped his shotgun. He had meant to kill Mr. Boss, not a kid who was probably forced to serve him.

The injured Reggie got up with eyes blazing. This was his first time working as a fighter outside a ring and now he was shot and dying.

The raven haired teen ran at the shop owner and punched so hard that his head got stuck in the ceiling. After a few spastic twitches the shop owner's body went still. Blood dripped from it and made a puddle on the shop floor.

Reggie vomited blood. His Caucasian skin getting pale.

Mr. Boss could hear shouts as re-enforcements arrived. He was saved.

"I can see why you always used D," Reggie said with small chuckle as the little life left in him slipped away.

In less than a minute Reggie was dead. His face lying sideways in his lap, grey eyes staring into nothing.

_I have to get D back, _Mr. Boss decided.

* * *

_A blonde six-year old sobbed softly as he bandaged his broken arm. At least he tried to._

_A blonde nine-year old boy dug his hand into the throat of his opponent and pulled out his windpipe. His demonic looking face showing why he earned the nickname D. He was death itself._

_A red haired girl walks up to D's cage. He knew he had a match with a popular opponent in two days. He knows the guy is big and his own boss had a lot going on him winning._

_But why was his boss's daughter here._

"_Hey!" the girl shouted._

_D only stared forward._

_The girl's face went red as her hair. She was truly Mr. Boss's daughter. Hated being ignored by underlings._

"_I Francine Fullbright am talking to you!" Francine screamed, "you __will__ address me!"_

_D's lifeless looking eyes got focused. Now alive he looked at her._

"_What?" D asked._

"_You always act like you're in a trance," Francine said scornfully, "I know you can talk," she spat, "you can barely read, but you can talk."_

_D groaned. Francine wasn't going to leave him alone now._

"_I want you to promise me something," Francine said suddenly._

_D was surprised. Why would Francine care about anything he said?_

_But when he looked in her eyes, he saw genuine worry._

"_Promise you'll always be faithful to my father," Francine said her voice almost cracked, "promise you won't let harm come to him."_

_D's eyes darkened. He never liked Mr. Boss._

"_He's my dad," Francine said desperately, "D, please."_

_D actually leaned back. Francine was scaring him._

_Then he had flashbacks of his own family. The family that sold him to Mr. Boss._

_No one could've been worse or more deceitful in his eyes. No one._

"_Okay," D agreed._

_The usually cold and demeaning Francine did something most surprising. She stretched into the cage and hugged him with one hand. Most didn't even dare to touch him!_

"_Thank you," Francine said gratefully._

_Just then there were footsteps._

_By the time Mr. Boss came into the room Francine was making her usual fun of him and even threw a few paper balls._

_D just stared forward with his usual empty blue eyes._

"D!" a voice shouted bringing D back to reality.

No one ever made an effort to talk to him besides that kid called Numbuh 1. This was a female voice.

D slowly turned around on his cot.

Someone had slid back the small window in the metal door that kept him locked inside. Most of the time it was locked.

Looking at him was the face and eyes of a black girl.

"I have a message," the girl said, "is it safe for me to come in?"

D just stared at her coldly.

After a few minutes the door was heard opening. D tensed. He didn't know this girl.

Numbuh 5 stepped in and closed the door behind her. Her face resembled that of someone who had just crossed death. Crossed it badly.

"Um," Numbuh 5 said, "I have a um, Count told me to give this to you," she said and flung a letter on his lap.

D looked at the letter then at Numbuh 5.

After a few minutes Numbuh 5 walked forward and reached for it.

_God the kid can't even open an envelope, _Numbuh 5 thought.

Suddenly D's face contorted and he grabbed the envelope.

A frightened Numbuh 5 stepped back to the door. If D attacked she had no defences. It was bad enough that she had snuck in to see him at all.

D glared at Numbuh 5's fearful face. Then he remembered something Numbuh 1 said.

"5," D said still grasping his letter.

"Huh?" Numbuh 5 said.

D glared at her.

It took a moment for Numbuh 5 to process what D was saying.

She immediately felt like an idiot.

"Heh," Numbuh 5 said, "Numbuh 5 was frightened by you for a moment," she said sheepishly, "I missed what you said."

"He said you were smart," D said as he opened his letter, "and," he continued, "I'm not dumb," he added.

"Numbuh 5 never…" Numbuh 5 started.

D held up the now empty envelope like it was damning evidence.

"Oh," Numbuh 5 said realizing what he meant, "I guess you can open it."

D let out a low growl then proceeded to read the letter.

**Dear D,**

**Congratulations on your win, KILL U died nine hours after your match up and I will tell you one thing. I miss him. I wish in some ways that I never got close him.**

**But then I never would've learned the biggest lesson about this life in the kid's death fighting matches. That it is wrong. When I dropped all my fighters but KILL U six moths ago, people thought I was nuts. But I just wanted to keep KILL U fighting 'til his eighteenth birthday. Then I'd decline sending him to adult death fighting and let him go. Now that will never happen.**

**I'm sending you this with sadness and yes some bitterness in my heart. Don't go back to death fighting. No matter how much in the smallest way the life of fighting appeals to you. Create a life for yourself, make friends, do the things KILL U never got a chance to.**

**I wish you the best and hope Mr. Boss never finds you.**

**Best Wishes**

**Count Spankalot**

After trying to read it unsuccessfully three times. He beckoned Numbuh 5 over who read it with ease.

D also looked at a photo from the envelope. It was of KILL U and Count Spankalot at a pizza joint. Both holding a slice of pizza with broad smiles on their faces.

After looking at this picture deeply. D's face darkened.

_Caring owners get dead fighters._

D flung away the picture. Then he proceeded to tear the letter to pieces.

"KILL U died 'cause he was weak," D said in a shaky voice, "I live 'cause boss is strong."

A confused Numbuh 5 could only stare.

"Get out," D said suddenly and turned his back to her.

Numbuh 5 was crestfallen.

_Just when I thought he had opened up, _Numbuh 5 thought.

"I hope you can be happy someday," Numbuh 5 said honestly, "like Count Spankalot hopes," she said and turned to leave, "and me too," she added and left.

D turned around as she closed the door. Sad eyes met his as the door closed.

D turned his and lay on his cot.

Numbuh 5's sad face haunted him for the rest of the day.

Kuki looked at the clock and sighed. It was 4 pm.

_I better go talk to her, _Kuki decided.

"Mushi?" Kuki asked as she looked for her sister.

Mushi had been acting weird lately. Kuki hoped to help her.

But when she reached Mushi's room she heard another voice.

Thinking King Sandy had snuck in to see her sister again, an angry Kuki readied to kick the door in.

"I'll get Kuki tonight," a voice said raspily, "then I'll get into Sector V," it concluded.

Kuki leaned in and listened.

By the time the conversation was over Kuki was almost in tears.

_My sister's been kidnapped and my replacement's talking to her robotic clone? _Kuki thought, _robots are so mean!_

_Oh, and I better go to headquarters, _Kuki mentally added.

* * *

Hope this was good. Please read and review and thank you everyone who has reviewed so far. 


	5. Propositions

_Tragic Hero_

* * *

Author: blackmonday

* * *

Author's Note: Hello all, I am not in fact dead, but have just been busy with my different priorities. My sincerest apologies go out to firstly Animation Emir and Death's Soulmate, who have of course been waiting for this chapter so they can write in sequence. Secondly, to the readers, who I know get frustrated when a good story is suddenly stopped. I am sorry to say that this will be my last story for the KND fandom, as I have moved on to other obsessions. :( But it's just gotten a bit boring for my tastes._

* * *

_

_Propositions_

* * *

_Promise you'll always be faithful to my father._

_He's my Dad, D, __please_

_"Okay."_

It wasn't enough to say that Francine Fullbright Boss cared about her father. She full out loved him with all her heart. No matter what, little Fanny would always look up to her father, in whatever decisions he happened to make.

However, things had begun to spin around for Fanny.

Mr. Boss had been approached by a fellow named Father earlier that day. Francine had heard of the man, of course. He was legendary in the paths of youth discipline and behavioral sciences. He was also known to have a few shady dealings about him, much like Mr. Boss. When he came to her dad with a proposition concerning the death of Tony Fredericks, the crash of the kid fighting investment, and a bit of cash all summed into one conversation, Fanny knew that it couldn't have gone well.

She could hear bits and pieces of her dad's voice from her room. Her father was not the best-tempered in her family, the walls as thick as anyone would like, nor the air vents as resounding as they were during that talk.

_WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL THE BETS HAVE DROPPED? HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FUND IT?_

_ARTIFICIAL—FATHER, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING! THAT'S BEYOND ILLEGAL! HELL, IT'S BEYOND UNETHICAL!_

_D?_

At this one word, her father stammered and then continued with the conversation. Fanny had strained her ears to hear this one, relying on her own honed fighter skills to focus on her surroundings, particularly that one from upstairs in her daddy's office.

_For, this one, I really __am__ sorry. He was lost in the attack as well…_

_30 days! Are you out of your mind? That's all I have to find him? He could be in Canada by now, and I wouldn't know!_

_Perfect candidate my arsenal? I'm sure one of your Delightful Squad would suffice! Have you checked Spankulot's?_

_Oh…out of business, I see…_

Knowing her father quite well, Francine decided to tune out for a while. Her father would continue to ramble and rant for another five to ten minutes—if the listeners were lucky. She took this time to contemplate on the past days' events.

A voice squeaked inside her head 'Let's see, all your fighters have broken out, your dad is close to having the biggest heart attack of his life, not to mention the assassination attempt that killed one of the Boss business's last remaining fighters, and the kid fighting trade and era was coming to an end. Not bad, not bad at all.

Fanny almost kicked herself for all the sarcasm and cynicism her conscience (or whatever that random voice was) provided.

But even more so than the loss of the fighters as a whole was the loss of one in particular—D. After that tiny exchange of a promise, the two began to see each other in new lights. D would hold a certain respect for Francine. It would seem to common and logical to the normal outsider. D paid respect to Boss, thus repaying that respect to the family. But the difference was in the mutuality. D respected her for her (secret) respect of him. It was that strangely simple.

From that simplicity erected a confidence in the other. Francine would often come to the side of D whenever her little brother had done something to annoy her, or one of the fighters made jeers at being the Boss's daughter, or whatever seemed at the moment to piss her off. And D would just sit there, in a seeming trance—almost ignoring her—but in fact listening to her every word. And it wasn't really that in what he was listening, but to whom, in what manner, and the fact that he was listening at all. It acknowledged the girl as human, and it acknowledged him in that way as well.

After concluding her thoughts with this rare philanthropic idea, a new voice entered Fanny's end of the conversation, which she assumed to be Father.

_**WOULD YOU STOP BUMBLING, YOU FOOL?**__ Now, if you listen carefully, there is an alternative to D._

Fanny could almost imagine her dad nodding vigorously in acquiesce as a dog would to a t-bone steak. And a single word struck the ears of all the conversation's listeners.

_Francine._

Francine tried to block out her father's incessant rage with the pillows, but anyone in the vicinity could feel the heat emanating from Mr. Boss's emotions.

Suddenly, the shouting stopped, and struggled breathing replaced all noise.

_Then_, came the stranger's voice,

* * *

Mrs. Thompson could've cackled in her delight. It was of sheer luck that she had decided to withdraw her were-puppy program from the Boss Campsite just days before the attack on Boss was launched. But instead of cackling, she decided to just howl, being a were-dog herself. 

Mrs. Thompson strode across her elegant office, taking care not to trip over the tiger skin rug she had placed conveniently in front of her desk—for attackers to trip and for clients to be wary. She made her way to a seven layered mahogany finish bookshelf and peered towards the left end of the fourth level, on which her eyes laid upon three books of advanced microbiology, robotics, and genetics.

As soon as she had arrived at her large matching mahogany desk once more, the intercom rung from the front desk that a Mr. Father was here to visit her. She beckoned him in, receiving his call of an offer earlier that week.

Thrice, the man knocked, she noticed. Not to rushed, frantic, heavy, or light—just perfectly courteous. Thompson was a stickler for details—those being very crucial in matters as she often dealt with, that often left very little room for chance, if any at all.

"Good afternoon," Mrs. Thompson broadly smiled, "you must be Father. Can I offer you scotch maybe a bit of sherry?"

Father politely shook his head. "No thank you, I'm quite refreshed," and catching the look of appall in Mrs. Thompson's face, he quickly added with a smirk, "And I'm quite aware of the rumors that you often tend to mix…ah, additives… into your drinks, and I wish myself to be safe at the moment—especially with all the commotion at the moment."

With a scowl adorning what would normally be a very beautiful face, Mrs. Thompson retorted, "Very well, then. You have been doing your research. But you came with a purpose, and I would very well like you not to waste my time."

"Well, ma'am, it concerns your experiments with the children. As you may have heard, I have also been working in the field of behavioral sciences and genetics and have had successes with my Delightful Children just as you have with your Were-Puppies. Though, I have been having trouble with this particular experiment. I was wondering if you could lend a bit of constructive assistance."

Mrs. Thompson looked at Father with a scoff, "Well, if you are as accomplished as you say you are, why would you need my help?"

"Genetic science, my dear, is not an easy feat, as you well know. In the realm of mass production, the variables are even more susceptible to the extremes. Unfortunately, there are no other genetic sciences that are…ah, willing… to help." He hastily added, "There will, of course, be a sort of reimbursement of your liking—in initial profits or… something more, if all succeeds."

Mrs. Thompson pretended to brood for a while, getting his drift. Meanwhile, Father had placed a contract atop her desk. He began to gather his effects and stood up from his chair—inviting out of courtesy Mrs. Thompson to do so as well.

Father stuck out his hand in gratitude and Mrs. Thompson placed his hand in hers, and he shook it with confidence. "It has been a pleasure to talk over this business with you. I have given you this rough contract beforehand, so that you have time to contemplate our deal. It consists of the general proceedings, of course. I also have another copy in my briefcase as well as another kept safely in a storeroom even I cannot access—for integrity. As well, we shall meet on another date to make any changes to the specifications. I'll have my people call your people. I am so sorry, but I'm in a rush for another appointment I have schedule for the day. Good day, Mrs. Thompson." And he quickly exited the room before Mrs. Thompson gave her reply.

She frowned upon his lack of manners in his handshake and his farewell speech, but one glance at the contract swept all thoughts of ethics out of the way. One million dollars ready for what she estimated would be a 100,000 dollar investment in the span of a few months? There was no way she was passing this up.

This time, Mrs. Thompson did cackle with glee.


	6. Untitled

_Tragic Hero_

* * *

Author: Animation Emir

* * *

Disclaimer: The rights to Codename: KND do not belong to Animation Emir, Death's Soulmate, or blackmonday. Those belong to Cartoon Network and said producers.

* * *

Note: Haven't written anything in ages. Like blackmonday, I too have lost interest in the entire KND shebang. Guess I may not see INTERVIEWS or the rest of Season 6 like I said in one of my reviews for Death's Soulmate's Operation: FATE. But I'm gonna help finish up this story (I hope).

* * *

"This is nuts even for you!" #1 protested. It was now three months since the liberation of Mr. Boss' kid fighters. The KND had no new info concerning upcoming enemy actions. Some operatives oftentimes wondered about the newfound anxiety #86's eyes bore but always dismissed it. At long last, #362 and other ranking officers unleashed the solution to handling D: a gamble which didn't sit well where concerning Sector V. #2 shared a bit in #1's distaste, #3 felt hopeful yet unsure, and #5 didn't know what to think.

"Careful, Nigel," #362 spoke, "This is the Supreme Commander you're arguing with."

"He means no disrespect," #2 added, "But you realize the danger involved, right? This is a certain creep's best fighter we're talking here."

"Exactly," #362 continued, "D knows the operation better than our best spies, and his battle skills and rage are a nice touch. Nothing the Kids Next Door can't help him control."

"Anything to get him outta dat cage, I suppose," #3 commented.

"You sound awfully sure of yourself, but okay," a calmer #1 decided, "Have you discussed this with him yet?"

"Nope," was the answer, "But we'll get to it immediately. Supreme Commander #362, out." And the screen faded to show the departing Sector V's reflections.

"#1, what if D refuses?" #2 wondered, "Will the people at HQ force him ta still go through with it?"

"I'm at no liberty to discuss it," the leader replied, "Can't believe he and Tony used to be friends."

"I miss Tony," #3 said.

"We all do," #2 spoke, "But **I** can't believe his family bought our enemies' 'support'. How…? Ah, never mind." Silence followed for the time's remainder. What would Tony do? #5 thought.

* * *

As #362 promised Sector V, four KND executives – amongst them #86 – confronted D in his cell with their mysterious offer. But that wasn't what bothered the former kid fighter right now. Both the sight of Mr. Boss' daughter and #5's sad face from after receiving Count Spankulot's note many weeks back gave D no opportunity to either contemplate the offer or even much listen. But he did what he could, for he still entertained the philosophy that emotion meant weakness. "So you understand?" an executive operative questioned, "You can get free provided you do us and children everywhere a great service." D just grunted.

"We know you don't like your stuffy cell," another supplemented, "Who doesn't desire freedom, right? Ours are the bestest teachers and tutors offered. You got a fancy power, but you can't control it when that uncomfortable collar's off. They can help."

"Who said I needed help?" D growled, "You can just take yer offer and flush it."

"Like we haven't heard that before," the third executive said, "Think it over, alright? We'll be back for your answer this coming Saturday." All then stood up, but #86 lingered as the others left. The girl's eyes locked on the same boy whom she made promise to protect her male parent all that time ago. Last night certainly turned the tables further. What plans did Father have for #86? Was she indeed the next candidate in line for D's previous position, or something else? Even if she loved her dad…

"What?" D questioned six seconds later.

"…You'd be wise ta take up the offer," the girl calmly spoke before also leaving. D continued staring her way as she disappeared into the darkness. As fate would have it, he'd actually been spending spare time – mostly when nobody was looking – trying to bring himself under control in terms of conversation and greetings if not overall temper. His response to the offer was nicer for younger ears compared to previous attempts. He did want out, but D wouldn't give anyone around him at present the satisfaction just yet. An eager expression glanced down toward the collar around his neck.

* * *

Shock absorbers and drills created sparks in the basement at the Thompson residence. And as the old comparison went, this room made the entire house's outside look smaller. A small pasture-like enclosing for were-puppies; a group of training were-poodles; and a separate group discussing trivial matters altogether gave the impression of one acre. Near the stairs, a few others watched an excited Mrs. Thompson add the finishing touches to what appeared as an android were-poodle. Her constant, excited paces inspired perplexed stares until a minute later. "Don't just hover like a bunch of deadbeat fleas," she scolded. 

"Sorry, mistress," one were-poodle apologized, "Are you on some kind of sugar rush?"

"I should say not. Take a look at this." Mrs. Thompson held up Father's given contract for them to observe for five seconds. "Ooh, is he gonna love my latest presentation." And she resumed work.

"What's this all about?" another wondered, "What's he offering?"

"All the money I can cram into purses whose amount I cannot tally," Mrs. Thompson explained, "One million cabbage heads. Ooh, the research. My forces will be unstoppable." The teacher directed her attention towards a teenage member. "Still, it bothers me how you let that Stephanie brat slip through your claws, UPV."

"My apologies, mistress," UPV said.

"You're one of my best soldiers yet," the teacher continued, "An interloper in the Teen Ninjas, and you never caught a glimpse of Stephanie's killer. If only I could manipulate that kind of essence to my advantage."

"Again, I offer my sincerest apologies," UPV repeated, snarling his next words, "I'll get that fun stealer if it costs me my life."

"Yes, you see to that," Mrs. Thompson instructed. Before she could continue, however, her electric tools fizzled and turned off. "Strange. What kind of cheap junk…?" Sudden blinking of the lights above interrupted her and halted all activity in the room.

"What the?" a were-poodle said. Suddenly, a power failure left the entire procession in the dark. A slight panic dominated them all, but not yet enough to create mass chaos.

"What's going on around here???!!!!!" Mrs. Thompson cried. That's when the lights came back on. Short-lived relief gave way to all eyes directed on an intrusive sight standing near the basement's center: a humanoid figure with dark skin; two heads, one male and one female; emotionless expressions; a snake's tail with a scorpion stinger on the tip; and spikes on the backside, shoulders, forearms, and elbows; and an achromatic one-piece suit covering all recognizable human features save for claws on the hands. Both heads' words were no less emotionless than their faces. "Who are you? I haven't seen you in my entire life."

The intruder neared UPV's group and Mrs. Thompson, inspiring confusion and curiosity, and faced the teacher. "You've done young souls much damage," the male head spoke.

"Whatever that means," UPV retorted, "Did you ruin the power?"

"Synthetic constructs won't hinder us," the female head announced, "Your crimes cannot go unpunished."

"Hey, are you threatening us?" another were-poodle stated. At this, all began mutating and growling. But the intruder nevertheless felt no intimidation.

"You shall all join your makers," both heads said.

"The session's hardly begun, but one word out of you freaks' mouths is too much," Mrs. Thompson said, "ATTACK!!!" But the teacher and her were-poodles tragically had another thing coming if they believed they could beat the intruder, much less receive one million dollars from Father's offer. Drops of blood flying in the air and bloody messes against the basement walls said all about the group's failure. Outside, one could here the last were-poodle howling before death.

* * *

A lit cigar and a glass of aquavit made Father's hour later that night. He could hardly wait for what tomorrow offered, but he must kick back at present. Three puffs and gulped liquor always calmed his nerves. Typical villain. "Nothing like a nice reefer and some booze to ease the old nerves." He passed the cigar under his nose for smelling pleasure. "Mmm, what a bouquet. Note to self: Take advantage of the low class by marketing these pretties."

"Sir! Sir!" An ice-cream vendor's voice snapped Father out of his reverie. He tossed the drugs aside, maintained an alert position in his chair, and heard his worker out.

"What's going on?"

"It's about Mrs. Thompson, sir."

"Ah, the teacher. Has she accepted my offer, or refused?"

"Worse. Some workers heard a disturbance at the Thompson residence and investigated, and what a sight they beheld."

"A minor lab accident?"

"Nope. Besides the destruction of what appears to be an android she must've been working on, the basement is now a deep scarlet. Mrs. Thompson was brutally murdered in her own home by some unknown force, along with her were-poodle army."

Again that evening, silence died in the wake of a fiery blast towering from the mansion accompanied by a frustrated cry.

* * *

In an unknown location, Mushi paced back and forth in a large stone room resembling an asylum's waiting room. Other hostages seemed much too eccentric for her to greet: some chewed on their shirts, some babbled nonsensically, and others were practically frozen stiff from delusions. What did their captors want with them all? Would they see their families and the outside world again? Such questions occupied the young girl. For the first time in ages, Mushi felt scared. "What is this place? Why am I here with these wackos?" 

"Because we need you for an important experiment," a voice spoke. Mushi glanced in its direction and met the gaze of some taller figure concealed by shadows untainted by the room's dim light.

"Who are you? Why did you kidnap me? When can I see the open sky again? And do you hafta cram us all into this one space?"

"Someone's full of questions tonight. Fear not, little one. All will be revealed in time, but you should relax for now. I'd rather not have you collapse from a heart attack so early in your life." The figure retracted back into the shadows.

"Wait! Answer me this instant!" But the pouting child's request went unheeded, so she resumed pacing. This was to be a long night.

* * *

The KND still knew little to nothing about recent happenings: Father's new plan, the murder of Mrs. Thompson and her were-poodle army, Mushi's whereabouts, etc. But today was a big day seeing as how they made a bit more progress than their enemies. Sector V and #362 happened by the Maximum Security Prison not knowing what to expect. But all became clear when they happened by two guards escorting D their way. Greater shock presented itself via D's newfound tranquility despite his missing collar. The six stammered, babbled, and pointed at his neck. "It's okay," one guard reassured, "He's as tame as a baby sheep." 

"He must've done some self-peace training in his spare time," the other added, "Don't ask how. Believe us, we were just as surprised."

The sextet calmed down. "Um…yes," #362 began, "So, D. Have you made your decision? Will you take up our offer or turn it down?"

D took in a deep breath. He knew all that time remembering what his parents, elementary school counselors, and many others shouldn't be in vain. Whatever his decision right now, there was no turning back. He must be prepared for the consequences ahead. "Yeah, yeah. I'll do it. I'll…become one o' you. I'll join…the Kids Next Door."


	7. Threats, Promises, and Surprises

_**Tragic Hero **_

_

* * *

_

_Chapter Author: Death's Soulmate._

Disclaimer: No I don't own it. But I plan to help create my own show someday. Oh that someday. Oh and blackmonday and Animation Emir don't own Codename: KND either.

* * *

Readers. I am a beacon of hope. While my fellow counterparts here have developed nointerestinthisfandomophrenia (yeah, long word. New diagnosis), I have not lost interest in this fandom. I will keep writing Codename: Kids Next Door fanfics because the material of the show and my fertile mind are too rich for me to ignore. I'm sorry that Animation Emir and blackmonday have lost faith, but I shall continue along with the other fanfic writers of this fandom, to write, entertain, and satisfy the readers KND fanfic appetite. Fear not readers, and thank you.

Oh and…Hi! No seriously. I'm glad to be writing yet another chapter to this exciting story. What my writing counterparts have done has created some surprises for me, especially the last two chapters of were-poodles and murder. I can only hope to step up and satisfy.

P.S.: During the fight sequence play the song 'All Down Hill From Here' by New Found Glory (don't own, duh). Trust me, it makes the scene more awesome.

* * *

__

_**Threats, Promises, and Surprises**_

* * *

"_You __will__ fight!" Father threatened._

"_No way, you can't make me!" Fanny shouted._

"_No?" Father asked, "who's the daughter of a man who helps imprison kids like D, and trains them for death matches?" he asked._

_Fanny went silent._

"_Who's a part of an organization that has brought __your__ father to his knees financially?" Father pressed, "and dare I say, maybe emotionally."_

_Fanny gulped._

"_Fight or I tell him," Father said calmly, "fight or I tell them," he snarled, "you'll be alone," he told her, "none of them would think twice about disowning you."_

"_They…They won…they won't do that," Fanny stuttered defiantly._

"_Then try me," Father challenged._

_A teary eyed Fanny stood there shaking._

Fanny woke up breathing hard. Her dream replaying memories and events from two days ago. She had agreed to fight and had a match with ALI Babba in two weeks. The fight itself wasn't what frightened her so much. It was that ALI Babba had killed every fighter her father Mr. Boss had ever thrown at him. The only reason D was probably still alive was that her Dad refused to ever let him fight ALI Babba. Not even when offered five million dollars by ALI Babba's owner who was a very arrogant but smart Indian who grew up to be rich and powerful after being born poor and powerless in the rural and poorest parts of India. That really frightened her. Her father never turned down big money. He had to know that D would lose.

_I'm dead, _Fanny thought.

* * *

It was noon at Sector V when a knock was heard at the door. Kuki answered it. 

"Oh HI Numbuh 86!" Kuki announced.

"Oh uh Hi…I mean good afternoon Numbuh 3," Numbuh 86 said nervously.

Numbuh 3 looked at her curiously.

"Are you cold?" Numbuh 3 asked noticing Numbuh 86 wringing her hands.

"Oh no," Numbuh 86 said and stepped in, "who else is here?" she asked.

Numbuh 3 went silent.

"Numbuh 3?" Numbuh 86 asked, "Numbuh 3 I'm ordering you to tell…"

"Wally, new Numbuh 4," Numbuh 3 said quickly, she looked upset.

Numbuh 86 felt awful.

"Kuki, Numbuh 3, what's wrong?" Numbuh 86 asked.

"Tony has been replaced," Kuki said tearfully, then she broke down crying, "we pro…we pro…we promised to be together forever," she said and started bawling.

"Wha' the blazes…!" Wally shouted and stepped out of his room, "Kuki why are yah cry…"

Wally stopped upon seeing Numbuh 86.

"Francine," Wally said.

Kuki stopped crying and listened.

Francine was frozen on the spot. She had seen him around but now face to face without iron bars or scheduled death matches, it all seemed so drastically different.

"Um D…I mean Wally," Francine said, "I need to talk to you," she said, "privately," she added.

"I won't listen in," Kuki promised.

Francine sighed. Ever since Kuki discovered that a robot had replaced her sister, she had to hide out at headquarters. Kuki's robotic clone had replaced her in everything. Thankfully the plot was found out before it could replace Kuki as a KND operative. Several attempts were made to defeat and remove the robots from the household. All resulted in destruction (that KND was blamed for in the news), death, and kidnapping. Four operatives were unaccounted for and since one was a code breaker, it had the higher-ups really worried. Unfortunately it only gave the sensitive Kuki more nightmares. She never wanted to be left alone.

"Kuki," Wally said, "you can go into my room," he told her, "Tony's room," he added.

_If Tony liked her it's the leas' I can do, _Wally thought, _I'm sorry I never fulfilled my promise o' being yah best frien' forever Tony, I'm so sorry._

Kuki gasped. Ever since Wally came he rarely let her into his new room.

"Okay," Kuki said softly and stood up, "thank you."

Moments after entering the room however, the two operatives outside heard loud bawling.

"Let her grieve," Wally told Francine and led her out.

After walking for over a mile. Wally stopped. Francine stopped surprise.

"Your heart's beatin' fas'" Wally noted, "what's wrong?"

Francine gulped.

"I have to fight in a death match," Francine said in a small voice.

"WHAT!" Wally exploded.

Francine stepped back. His face resembled his old self. His angry killer old self.

Wally soon calmed down.

"Why?" Wally asked seriously.

Francine took a deep breath and told him everything.

"Father," Wally snarled hatefully.

"I wanted to say goodbye," Francine said sadly, "I'm never coming back," she said her voice cracking.

Wally grabbed her arm.

_I promised to protec' her father, _Wally remembered, _but I don't need a promise to protect her._

"I'll train yah," Wally told her.

"Tr…?" Francine started.

"An' other fighters still kept here will 'elp," Wally said, "you're in charge of bootin' people," he said, "you have authority," he pointed out, "yah can get 'em sent to cool off on train' grounds," he told her.

"But if we're caught…" Francine started scared.

"You fear gettin' caught or dyin' more?" Wally demanded.

Francine's face became determined.

"Okay," Francine said firmly, "I'll do it."

Wally smiled.

_That's the Francine I know, _Wally thought.

* * *

"Hi!" 

Abby jumped. She turned to see smiling at her one of her biggest fans.

Stephanie Hoppy.

"I loved the macaroni art you did of Mrs. Thompson," Stephanie said brightly, "it's so nice you did it in dedication," she said.

"Um, yeah," Abby said, "Abby always liked Mrs. Thompson," she said, "so sad she died due to a gas leak explosion."

"Yeah," Stephanie said slowly, "will you be doing more macaroni art?" she asked.

"I'll start one next week," Abby told her.

"Yay!" Stephanie cried jumping up and down.

"Yeah, Abby will see you later," Abby said and ruffled Stephanie's blonde hair.

Stephanie giggled as Abby walked away.

After school Stephanie walked until she saw her target. Her eyes glowed red as she got nearer and nearer to Maurice. Like Stephanie, she wasn't required to bring him in alive.

* * *

It was the night of reckoning. Francine walked into the arena. Before her stood 6'7 teenage champion ALI Babba from India. His owner was only known as Ind. Saying his real name in public circles was forbidden. 

ALI Babba looked down at Fanny superiorly. What he saw was a thin red-haired freckle faced pre-teen white girl wearing a blue samurai outfit.

"Where's your sword samurai?" ALI Babba teased.

Ind sitting in the front row grinned.

"I have no need for it," Francine said, "why should I waste it cutting down a fool."

The spectators gasped. While not all fighters greeted ALI Babba with fear, never in the visits he'd paid to the United States, did any fighter facing him show blatant disrespect.

Ind's eyes blazed. No one disrespected his fighter, no one.

"She doesn't live!" Ind shouted in a rage.

Mr. Boss jumped to his feet.

Ind chuckled.

"I will miss the chats I used to have with you and your daughter," Ind said with his light Indian accent and sat down.

Mr. Boss looked down at his daughter fearfully.

_Oh Francine, _Mr. Boss thought.

Mr. Boss sighed and sat back down.

"Ha!" ALI Babba declared and the lithe dark skinned fighter stood tall, "my master has ordered me to kill you," he told her, "that means you die," he snarled his eyes now filled with a crazed gleam.

Francine inwardly gulped.

_Stay focused Francine, stay focused, _Francine thought.

"You try to stay focus on your fighting," ALI Babba said loudly emphasising on his deep thick accent, "but you fighter's have no lives," he continued, "with the exception of you, most of the teen and kid death fighters in this country are locked up and treated like dirt," he said, "in my country fighters like me are revered," he said proudly, "when I go back I'm greeted like a king," he revealed, "how can fighters like you inexperienced, fighters like those of Mr. Boss who are trampled and spat on defeat me?" he challenged, "I LOVE LIFE!" he declared, "and you'll have to pry it out of my strong thin arms you scrawny little bitch," he snarled and readied to fight.

Francine watched the fifteen-year old wearing only a white turban and white pants with a purple scarf as a belt. She was getting scared.

_First ALI Babba loves to boast._

Francine gasped remembering Wally's voice during their training.

_Secondly he loves to win. Kill if he has to, especially if his master orders it._

_Well I'm very dead then, _Francine thought.

_Lastly he loves being on top. Remember, he's revered in India. His reputation and respect is everything to him._

"I guess that's why Ind only brings one," Francine said boldly, "you're not worth the expenses," she said grinning.

The arena went dead silent. NO ONE questioned ALI Babba's worth. Or worse, Ind's judgement.

"WRING her dry!" Ind shouted.

Mr. Boss covered his eyes.

"YOU DIE!" ALI Babba exploded frightening all spectators and awaiting fighters alike.

Francine shook for a moment. Then…

_You'll feel it._

Francine grinned.

_That moment when a fighter knows that they might die…_

Francine's eyes opened.

_And they're willing…_

ALI Babba stepped back seeing the girl's own crazy gleam.

…_to fight every second to make it not come true._

"You ready?" Francine asked in a small but ready voice.

ALI Babba grinned.

"You have the eyes of a fighter," ALI Babba said approvingly, "let's see if you have the skill!" he shouted and kicked her into the wall before she could even react.

Francine spat blood. She was stuck.

Then she heard it.

Laughter.

An enraged Francine forced herself out and left behind skin, blood, and cloth in patches.

Francine kicked ALI Babba so hard that his neck twisted all the way around.

Female fans from ALI Babba's native land screamed.

Ind grinned.

Suddenly Francine felt a searing pain in her foot. Then she realized why.

ALI Babba was biting her.

Francine had to kick him five times in his head to get him to let her go.

Francine flipped off and stood on her feet despite the pain in her right foot. She out mostly refused to look at her toes.

ALI Babba's head slowly twisted to its normal shape. He slowly cricked it. Blood trickled from his mouth.

"You can never defeat me," ALI Babba said simply, "let me make your death quick," he offered.

This surprised spectators. ALI Babba never offered a quick death before.

Ind's face darkened.

"Shove it where you got it," Francine snapped.

ALI Babba's eyes flared.

"How dare you!" ALI Babba roared.

_They will always, almost always, defend their weak spot._

Francine aimed for his head. The kick contacted.

ALI Babba grinned.

He grabbed her foot and flung her at a wall.

Francine curled up then released her feet to launch her off the wall to avoid serious injury.

She uncurled and landed gracefully.

"Graceful as a ballerina, eh?" ALI Babba asked.

Many audience members laughed.

Francine stood firm, red faced.

"Hey Fran!" Mr. Boss shouted, "remember who else was called a ballerina!"

"Huh?" Francine asked confused.

The audience hushed.

Then Francine recalled.

_This guy is definitely dead, _Francine thought.

"Why are you grinning?" ALI Babba demanded.

"Because I see your death," Francine whispered her eyes filled with a crazed happy bloodlust.

ALI Babba slightly stepped back.

For Ind this didn't go unnoticed.

Francine kicked ALI Babba in the side then twisted under him, quickly landing five kicks in his gut.

ALI Babba hit her chest and squeezed.

Francine cried out. Quickly she took a page from his book.

She bit his closest ear and tugged.

"Aahh!" ALI Babba screamed and flung her off.

Francine flipped and aimed a kick to his lower back.

ALI Babba's face darkened. He grabbed her foot less than an inch from her target.

_Gotcha, _Francine thought.

ALI Babba roared and flung her off.

"Ready to become a second class fighter?" Francine whispered.

ALI Babba took a defensive stance.

"You know what your true weakness is?" Francine said softly, "you think too much of your appearance," she said, "if you didn't you would've broken my neck instead of flinging me off," she told him, "you're tame," she accused, "and weak," she added.

ALI Babba stared at Francine. He looked like he was seeing someone else.

_D, _ALI Babba thought.

ALI Babba recalled sneaking in and talking to D two years ago. After declaring his greatness D sneered at him. Called him tame, civilized and weak. Told him he wouldn't survive in the real death fighter's jungle. Where fans were fickle and benefits were few and non-existent.

_And he told me that I couldn't win against him, _ALI Babba thought, _not with the way I currently was._

ALI Babba suddenly turned to his master. A pass of what seemed a coded message only the two could decipher passed quickly.

Then ALI Babba fiercely kicked Francine in the face.

Francine suddenly found herself defending fierce kicks for what seemed like an eternity.

It was actually two minutes.

"Call!" Ind shouted.

"No way!" Mr. Boss shouted.

"Have you forgotten he's fighting your daughter?" Ind asked incredulously.

Mr. Boss looked in the arena.

_Oh my God, _Mr. Boss thought.

"Call!" Mr. Boss shouted, "Ind and I will slit profits, no loser!" he shouted.

Just then Francine broke through and aimed for his lower back with a balled fist.

ALI Babba grabbed her fist and struggled to keep her from hitting the spot.

"Match Called," the announcer announced.

Francine still fought against ALI Babba's restraining hands.

"Restrain your fighter!" Ind shouted angrily.

Mr. Boss sweat dropped heavily.

ALI Babba leaned forward and whispered.

"The fight's over," ALI Babba whispered, "the fight's called," he told her.

An angry Francine wouldn't let up.

The spectators gasped at this open disobedience.

"Francine," ALI Babba pleaded, "you're not a civilian," he told her, "here you're a fighter under your father," he reminded her, "disobey and you devalue him."

Francine gasped.

She quickly calmed down and backed off.

ALI Babba let her hand go.

"ALI Babba, come," Ind ordered.

"Excellent match," ALI Babba told her, "he trained you well," he concluded and left.

Francine looked at ALI Babba shocked.

_He knows? _Francine thought.

Some patrons cheered while others booed. Called matches meant there was no loser. So everyone got half the profits of what they'd get if they won. No one lost all their money. But some who still felt their bet would've won booed this decision.

"Francine!" Mr. Boss shouted and ran into the ring.

"Daddy!" Francine cried happily.

Mr. Boss tightly hugged her.

Francine was too happy to wince.

Father meanwhile glared at this happy scene. He was hoping to see an end to Mr. Boss's empire. But now Mr. Boss could only go up. Few would defy a man with a top death fighter being his daughter. Worse yet, she's become a top fighter with just one match.

_Only one person could've trained her, _Father thought, _you'll pay D, or should I say Wallabee._

* * *

Meanwhile in Australia Mr. Beetles sat around the table eating with his wife and four-year old son Joey. 

"Dear the phone's ringing," Mrs. Beetles said.

"I'll answer it," Mr. Beetles said enthusiastically and did so.

"Hello," Mr. Beetles said enthusiastically.

"Hello," Father said.

"Hey…I…I paid all my debts," Mr. Beetles stuttered.

"Don't you want to know about your son?" Father asked.

"Oh Joey's fine," Mr. Beetles said dismissively.

Father rolled his eyes.

"The other one," Father explained.

The line went silent.

"My older son's dead," Mr. Beetles said coldly.

"Beetles I…" Father started.

Mr. Beetles hung up.

"Dear," Mr. Beetles said, "I got some news."

"What?" Mrs. Beetles asked.

"Someone called with a suspicion," Mr. Beetles said, "an investigator," he lied.

Cutlery fell loudly.

Mr. Beetles eyes darkened.

"He said they found a body and need me to come for DNA and some questions," Mr. Beetles told her.

"I could go," Mrs. Beetles volunteered, "I was with dear Wallabee last before our canoe went down," she reminded him.

"They already have your statement," Mr. Beetles said, "they need to review mine."

"Why?" Mrs. Beetles asked calmly.

Mr. Beetles was stuck.

"Dear?" Mrs. Beetles asked.

"Potato!" Joey shouted.

"Ahhh!" Mrs. Beetles shrieked, "I told you not to throw food!" she shouted angrily.

"Saved by the baby," Mr. Beetles said with relief.

_Now I just need to go to America to see if I don't still have another one alive, _Mr. Beetles decided, _well… a grown baby…big boy…oh whatever._

* * *

No this isn't a 3\4 (Wally) fic. Thank you for reading and please review. 


	8. Bad News, Bad News

_**Tragic Hero **_

_

* * *

_

_Chapter Author: Death's Soulmate._

* * *

Disclaimer: No I don't own Codename: KND.

* * *

Unfortunately my fellow writers no longer write this story with me. It has been deleted from blackmonday's profile and moved to mine for me to go solo. I will continue this story and promise to bring you quality and hopefully personal enjoyment.

* * *

_**Bad News, Bad News**_

* * *

Abby sat in her room in silence.

_Police say they believe hand-to-hand combat as well as continuous bludgeoning with heavy metal objects was the cause of death. The death of Maurice will be treated as a homicide and will be heavily investigated by the…_

Abby couldn't get the news report out of her head. It had been two days since that report confirmed the death of Maurice who had been three days prior. Her sister Cree had screamed, proving that the teens had nothing to do with it. Or at least, none of them had included her in the murder.

"Maurice," Abby said sadly, "we can't even have an official memorial for you at Headquarters since you're supposed to be a regular teenager," she said tearfully, "I only found out that you were a teen KND spy by accident."

"Abby," a voice said softly.

Abby looked to see her sister Cree.

"Was Maurice really a spy?" Cree asked.

Abby froze.

_Oh crap, _Abby thought.

"Don't worry, I already knew," Cree revealed.

Abby looked at her sister incredulously. Too shock to even ask why they were being civil to each other.

"He's so handsome isn't he?" Cree asked, "so kind, debonair," she listed, "I can see why you crushed on him," she said, "why I loved him," she added.

"I loved him," Abby said defiantly.

Cree chuckled.

"Of course," Cree said, "you loved him too."

"What makes your love different?" Abby demanded.

"I never handed him in," Cree revealed, "I knew he didn't love me and let him play me like a fiddle," she said softly.

"WHAT?" Abby shouted.

"Funny," Cree said, "me the dedicated teen warrior falling for the teenage KND spy," she said laughing, "so much in love that I let him use me, play mean tricks on me, and never told him I knew his identity even once," she listed, "because I knew, if I did that, my world where I was loved by Maurice would be shattered."

"But he didn't love you," Abby protested.

"Teenagers can have big imaginations too Abigail," Cree told her, "just use your imagination and anything's real," she said airily.

Abby looked at her sister worriedly.

"I'm going to get some sleep," Cree said turning to leave.

"It's noon," Abby told her.

"It will always be night to me Abigail," Cree said leaving, "a cold bitter night," she concluded and left.

Abby wrapped her arms around herself. Cree's words made her room drop by a hundred degrees in her mind.

_I guess the mind can really imagine anything, _Abby noted.

* * *

Meanwhile Mushi sat in a corner with a red haired boy. He bit himself and growled but he was the only one she found who could still talk. 

"What do you think will happen to us?" Mushi asked, "they did something that made my head hurt."

"I arf don't grrr know," the boy said between acting like a dog and biting at his straight jacket.

Mushi stared at the ceiling. No one had come to save her. For all she knew her sister could've been captured and locked in a different room. Every time she tried to remember what happened when she was removed from this room her head hurt even worse.

"Remy," Mushi said tearfully, "do you think we'll ever go home?"

Remy was now half running half crawling around the room barking. It would be hours before the seven-year old could talk 'normal' again.

Mushi sighed and rested her head against the wall.

* * *

Nightfall at Sector V was very tense. More kids were disappearing and the recent murder of Maurice had every KND operative on edge. 

"We have to put a stop to this menace," Numbuh 1 declared, "if we don't it will be only a matter of time before they get to us too."

"Those losers can't touch me," D the new Numbuh 4 declared.

"Keep saying that," Numbuh 2 said unconvinced.

"You got somethin' to say tubby?" Numbuh 4 challenged.

"Tubby!" Numbuh 2 shouted.

"Ok guys," Numbuh 1 started.

"Nuh uh this uneducated…" Numbuh 2 started.

"I'm very edumacated!" Numbuh 4 shouted.

Numbuh 2 burst out laughing.

Numbuh 4 growled.

"EEP!" cried Numbuh 2.

"He didn't mean anything!" Numbuh 3 cried.

"It sure sounded like somethin'," Numbuh 4 said glaring at a whimpering Numbuh 2.

"Ahem," Numbuh 5 said, "please D, calm down."

D's flaring eyes calmed at the use of his real name.

"Numbuh 5 thinks it's best that he's called D in times of…duress," Numbuh 5 decided to say.

Numbuh 3 gasped.

"I said duress not undress," Numbuh 5 told her.

"Oh," Numbuh 3 realized.

D went bright red.

"Uh, I…don't undress in public," D decided to say.

Everyone else looked at him incredulously.

"Wha' isn't that mannas?" D asked.

Numbuh 2 slapped his hand on his head.

One look from D had him running to the shadows.

"Can we please move on?" Numbuh 1 asked.

"Sure," D said.

"We have to start checking for robots in our schools," Numbuh 1 stated, "don't confront them because if Kuki's robotic counterpart is already tough," he said, "I doubt the others will be powder puffs."

"I say kick ass take no prisoners," D declared.

"Since the robot will beat you I guess there'll definitely be no misinterpretation of the 'no prisoners' part," Numbuh 1 said formally.

"Are yah sayin' I'd get beat?" D demanded.

"Yes," Numbuh 1 said slowly.

"No one beats D," D declared, "I've been undefeated for years!"

"Against robots or people?" Numbuh 1 asked.

"Both," D said, "I'm not one to brag…"

"Then don't," Numbuh 1 interrupted.

There was an abrupt silence.

"It jus' singes yah balls that I got into yah precious sector doesn't it?" Numbuh 4 countered to gasps of horror, "did they push down yah decision despite yah cushy position?" he asked, "the great Numbuh 1," he said, "was that a prize from graduating potty school?"

Everyone else's mouth hit the floor.

"It's a position given to only our top operatives," Numbuh 86 said walking in, "with the except of me of course," she declared.

All the others but Numbuh 4 groaned.

"I see yah are well," Numbuh 4 said.

"Um," Numbuh 86 said blushing, "of course," she said quickly.

"Why are you here?" Numbuh 3 asked.

"Of course," Numbuh 86 said, "I have a list of suspected robots at your school," she said handing Numbuh 1 a list, "and I have a package for Numbuh 4 here a.k.a D or Wally."

"Call me Wally," D told her.

The other operatives looked at Numbuh 86 strangely.

"Anyway," Numbuh 86 continued, "an operative will be by to home school you Wally," she told him, "and please try to respect Numbuh 1," she said causing him to frown, "don't worry, not even I like him," she added.

Numbuh 1's face burned an angry red as Wally rolled around laughing.

Numbuh 5 meanwhile had taken the list from Numbuh 1. Her eyes bulged at one name on the list.

_Stephanie, _Numbuh 5 thought.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and please review.**


	9. Things get heated

* * *

_**Tragic Hero**_

* * *

_Chapter Author: Death's Soulmate._

* * *

_**Things get heated**_

* * *

"Numbuh 4," Numbuh 1 said seriously, "a word."

"Yah just said it," Numbuh 4 teased.

Numbuh 2 couldn't help slipping a laugh.

"Alone, now," Numbuh 1 ordered.

Numbuh 4's face darkened. He got up and followed Numbuh 1 to a private section of the tree house.

"What's going on with you and Numbuh 85?" Numbuh 1 asked.

"Nothin'," Numbuh 4 responded.

"You two going off alone nothing?" Numbuh 1 countered, "her taking time off shortly after nothing?"

"Why not ask her?" Numbuh 4 pressed.

Numbuh 1 paled.

"Yah can't can you?" Numbuh 4 realized, "then leave me alone," he snapped and pushed Numbuh 1 out the way.

"Stop or I'll report you to high command," Numbuh 1 threatened.

Numbuh 4 turned around eyes blazing.

"What's going on between you and Numbuh 85?" Numbuh 1 demanded.

"Report me," Numbuh 4 responded.

Numbuh 1's lips became a thin line.

"You're only here because the real Numbuh 4 died," Numbuh 1 told him.

"Lucky him," Numbuh 4 countered.

Numbuh 1 froze.

"So yah gonna report me or not?" Numbuh 4 asked.

"Get out," Numbuh 1 snarled.

"Wha'?" Numbuh 4 asked.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Numbuh 1 exploded, "you're a disgrace to his number!"

There was silence.

"Ah didn't…"

"GET OUT!"

Numbuh 4 walked out leaving a furious Numbuh 1.

"Oh Tony," Numbuh 1 said and broke down in tears.

* * *

Abby meanwhile sat at lunch alone. She was far from in the mood to talk to anyone.

"Hi," Stephanie said excitedly.

Abby froze then realized she had to act normally.

"Hi Stephanie," Abby said, "how are you today?"

"Fine, I made macaroni art," Stephanie declared.

"Really?" Abby asked.

"Yeah," Stephanie said, "Kuki loves it."

"That's nice," Abby said, "so how's 'Kuki' at school?"

"That's not the real Kuki silly," Stephanie said, "I know Abby," she said in a singsong voice.

Abby froze.

"What do you want?" Abby asked.

"Nothing much, just for you to release all of the kids you have imprisoned," Stephanie said, "**all **of them."

"If you…" Abby hissed.

"Or I'll let the macaroni art at the tree house go boom," Stephanie whispered, "not even numbuh 2 can stop it."

Abby was breathing hard. She couldn't imagine losing another operative close to her.

"I'll have to contact the Supreme Commander," Abby whispered back in defeat.

"You have 'til nightfall," Stephanie said happily, "and that bomb also goes boom if you try to detonate it," she added, "bye!"

Abby hit her head against the tree she was sitting next to.

_How can things get any worse? _Abby thought.

* * *

"D we have to obey," Numbuh 362 said formally, "they'll kill another operative if we don't."

"Ah won't let yah send my friends off to be murdahed!" D shouted, "Ah saw the news 'bout Maurice an Numbuh 5 told me 'bout dat Stephanie girl."

"I'm sorry D," Numbuh 362 said, "we'll send them off in protected vehicles…"

"An' afa?" D interrupted.

"What do I do?" Numbuh 362 demanded, "wait for them to come here?"

"Yes," Numbuh 86 spoke up, "we're the KND, we can't let hundreds of kids die."

"How can you say that?" Numbuh 362 raged.

"I contacted Kuki," Numbuh 86 revealed, "she said she didn't know about the deal," she said, "she's willing to die."

"Wha'?" D asked.

"She wants to be with the former Numbuh 4," Numbuh 86 explained, "I said it was up to you to respect her wishes."

"Numbuh 3 might…" D said but stopped.

"I refuse to be party to this," Numbuh 362 said, "you decide Numbuh 86," she declared.

"Then I'm for her sacrifice," Numbuh 86 responded, "it's something we all have to be prepared to do," she said, "I understand that now."

"What are you saying?" Numbuh 362 asked incredulously.

"I told Numbuh 3 if you didn't contact her with a response," Numbuh 86 said, "then her wish has been granted," she added.

"You have no authority to declare that Numbuh 86!" Numbuh 362 shouted, "you're suspended, hand in your numbuh and get out!"

"It's okay D," Numbuh 86 said before he could protest, "just follow me off the Moon Base," she added and walked out.

D followed her quietly. Suddenly he was dragged into a broom closet.

"Listen, I need you to cause a riot among the detained fighters," Numbuh 86 said, "I'm going to get some of them out of here," she said, "you know what will happen to them with my father isn't near what will happen if those robotic freaks get them."

D thought deeply for a moment.

"Okay," D agreed.

* * *

Mr. Beetles got off the plane. Waiting to greet him outside the airport was a smiling Father.

"Welcome to America."

* * *

**Thank you for reading and please review. Sorry about the LATE update.**


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